Enigma of the East
by Divinely Ethereal
Summary: My first crack at a Jin/Zafina. Excuse the title. Couldn't come up with something more original...


**Enigma of the East**

_**A/N: Ok, I'm supposed to be on a writing hiatus because of Uni, but let me explain how this piece came about. I was flicking through a textbook, when I was reminded of "An Alternate Life". I randomly started thinking about Zafina's future part in that fic, but then I decided to write her out of it, otherwise there would be far too many females compared to males. But her storyline in that fic continued to bug me, so I fleetingly considered the possibility of a stand alone fic dedicated to her and Jin. The idea took root and refused to let go, and I found myself unable to concentrate on anything else. So there it is. I know it's dreadfully long but please bear with me. And I'm sorry I haven't R&Red for a while. I'll get around to it next month when the exams are over. My sibs are having a blast at SkiLand and SeaWorld while I'm stuck here poring over boring legal text. How's life fair? I'm not even gonna bother with the disclaimer at this point, so yeah….**_

"_Zafina Kamal Hamada. Pleased to meet you…"_

Even to the ears of the undiscerning listener, the soft, soulless voice in which the perfunctory line had been uttered seemed to imply otherwise. Yet there was nothing in the girl's manner to suggest that, by presenting herself to the careful scrutiny of thirty curious pairs of eyes, she viewed herself as a sheep being marched off to the slaughterhouse, as was customary amongst the new high school arrivals whose livelihood for the next three years depended entirely on the good favour of their peers. In fact, she had crossed the length of the classroom in six, slow, purposeful steps, her bearing proud and erect, a quiet air of assurance enveloping her tall, willowy frame.

Now she stood there, surveying the rest of the class with cold, calculating eyes that belied an inner blazing intensity, like a general inspecting his troops, one who was frankly unimpressed with what he saw, and eager to make his displeasure known. She was wearing the standard school uniform with a few adjustments: Her blouse was buttoned all the way up, giving very little in terms of the tantalizing views that boys coveted, her skirt reached past her knees, and as far as one could tell, she did not appear to be adorning herself with any sort of feminine accessories. The rest of her was as untamed as a wildcat: Hair as dark as a panther's coat and just as sleek, drawn into an austere bun, nostrils that were flared like those of an animal poised for a fight, and a mouth that was curved into a thin, cynical line. She was not unattractive; it just happened that in the flashy, ostentatious world of high school, this image of modesty and decorum was an acquired taste- fine, patrician features like hers were very seldom concealed behind a mask of rigid austerity. One could even go so far as to use that old comparison with the rose- enticing petals, yet prickly thorns.

This was what Jin Mishima's well-honed analytical skills, equally reliable both in sparring matches and in intellectual discourse, told him. He pondered whether this Zafina would want to join his and Asuka's motley crew of friends and self-proclaimed rivals( Rang and Lily respectively), then carefully glanced around the rest of the class. He could tell that the new specimen had received mixed reviews. Lily Roquefort and the carbon copies( in both looks and social standing) she had spawned glared hard with open disdain, though there was plenty of restless fidgeting at the potential threat the new girl posed to the current status quo. On the other hand, perpetual skirt-chasers like Rang Do San, Miguel Rojo, Steve Fox and their cronies slipped into the manner of communication comprised mostly of nudges, smirks, snide comments and insolent stares. Jin sighed; was he the only one with a_ legitimate_ interest in her?

Apparently Zafina had been entertaining a parallel train of thought; her gaze lingered over him a tad longer than the rest, her obsidian, doe-like eyes lighting up with a new-found curiosity.

XXXXXXX

First recess found the entire male demographic of the class( minus Jin) crowding around Zafina's desk, eager to make her acquaintance. Rang strolled up, introduced himself and offered a casual hand. From his quiet corner, Jin observed how Zafina seemed to be sizing the red-head up, probably weighing his good looks against the rebellious nature he'd exhibited so far in classes, coupled with his intellectual abilities and his work ethics(sadly lacking so far). She finally accepted his proffered hand, her expression guarded. Rang smirked; he was the first to achieve the honour.

He was also the first to get sent packing.

For just when it appeared they would get along, Rang repeated the foreign name, then made the sort of snarky, slightly suggestive remark that would never go down well with such a seemingly self-respecting and utterly humourless girl. Jin saw her draw back her hand abruptly, extract an embroidered handkerchief from a pocket, and make a show of wiping her hand with much distaste, wondering quietly whether stupidity was contagious . As people laughed, and Miguel and Steve gloated, Zafina forced her way out of the clustered crowd with a generic warning, in clipped and harsh words, to get the pronunciation of her name right from then on. Jin barely had time for an amused smirk before she was upon him.

He quickly introduced himself, then to cover up his surprise, promptly added that the English spelling of her surname, "Hamada", coincided with the Romanized version of a Japanese surname, commonly written in Kanji with the characters for "_beach" _ and "_rice field"_. She smiled faintly at that and told him that she thought it was a rather odd combination of characters, since there were very few beaches and rice fields where she hailed from. He grimaced slightly and solemnly promised to come up with a more fitting Kanji combination, to which she replied that as long as that did not include the word _"ship"_, she would be fine. Noticing his quizzical look, she added helpfully, in a low, conspiratorial voice, that her fellow countrymen often called her "_Safina"_," ship" in her native tongue, teasingly, and that he had better keep this piece of knowledge to himself, or the consequences would be dire for him. He smirked and noted quietly that she would never have spoken to him in the first place had she not been able to tell that he could keep a secret. After a split second's consideration, she informed him that he was right.

" _Pleased to meet you, by the way…_"

He was gratified to detect no contradictory notes in her tone.

XXXXXXX

Zafina was a fascinating specimen. Of mixed Arab heritage, she was the daughter of a diplomat who had chosen to uproot his family in order to avoid the raging Middle Eastern conflict. Her lifetime ambition was to become a learned scholar of the classical civilizations( Arab, Greek and Roman). Her short-term goal was to master an exotic, lethal-looking martial art whose name Jin and the others had given up on pronouncing. She was brisk and businesslike most of the time, and appeared to mistrust men more than the the average well-informed citizen mistrusted the Bush administration, blaming them for every mishap in this world from wars to natural disasters. Their very first Civics class, she paired up with Jin and turned the introductory debate on civil rights, into full-blown rhetoric on the failings of men. It would have sounded more like rhetoric if her voice hadn't sounded like the vicious crack of a slave-driver's whip, and the one-man audience had not belonged to the very group she was supposed to be slandering.

"… extreme sense of self entitlement… insufferable arrogance… and people wonder why the world we live in is so diseased…." She finished with a dramatic wave of her hand.

Jin's attempt at humoring his disenchanted partner was confined to the occasional smile, but in his head he began to wonder just what proportion of this vague category of "people" were men. He decided not to press the issue and changed tack. " I still don't see how men cause the earth to shake,, the sky to pour and volcanoes to erupt." Next time he would be required to defend the world's male population, he could do with a warning.

"These phenomena exist only because men with their wicked deeds upset the natural order…Their only function is to punish men and remind them of their place."

Jin raised a dubious brow. " Doesn't seem to be efficient. Since the world is _still _diseased…"

Zafina's eyes flashed in a way that threatened fanatical violence, so Jin quickly threw in the towel. " I give in. You're just…" he sought the right word. "Incorrigible."

She folded her arms across her chest, her mouth becoming an even tighter line." If you want to insult me, please do so in terms I can understand. I promise I won't bite…much."

He smirked at the underlying threat. " It's just what my father would call my sister whenever she exasperated him."

She leaned her elbows across from him and said breezily, "My, my, so you've already decided that I'm just another problem child. Goodness knows you have enough of those here." She inclined her head in the general direction of Rang, Steve and Miguel, who already seemed to have lost interest in the class proceedings and were amusing themselves by tossing crumpled bits of paper into one dozing student's open mouth.

"Well, you know what they say," he replied with a shrug, frowning at the trio of delinquents. " The more the merrier."

The response garnered him a thin smile.

XXXXXXX

Jin had misjudged Zafina. She _did_ have a sense of humour. Of the most macabre type. For instance, during one recess, she started a conversation about how women in the Middle Ages dealt with their offending spouses. She drew a comparison between Western women who resorted to lacing their husbands' food with liberal quantities of arsenic, at great risk of getting caught, and Eastern women who simply braided their long, lush hair into powerful ropes with which to strangle their husbands, avoiding suspicion altogether on account of being inferior to men in strength. Zafina paused at this point and looked up at Julia.

" Take a hint," she said tartly and proceeded to tip Rang a wink that left him feeling non-plussed.

For Julia was wearing her hair in a single long braid, and she and Rang had recently hit a very rocky patch in their relationship.

There were also several incidents involving astrology, another relatively obscure branch of study to which Zafina was adamantly attached. She had apparently managed, with the help of an old deck of Tarot cards, to predict Rang's death in twelve possible, equally gruesome ways, half of which included castration at one point or another. Jin had at first shrugged Rang's "fate" as pure spite on Zafina's part, but once she had methodically walked him through the technique involved in this branch of fortune-telling, he was no longer certain that it had all been fabricated for fun.

" If you must upset Rang, why don't you use the more, uh, _conventional _ humour techniques?" Jin had finally said, by way of helpful suggestion, trying not to let his exasperation show.

She had raised her eyebrows but said nothing. The following day saw Rang screaming himself hoarse, his trademark flaming-red hair a darker, peculiar shade, as a result of someone switching the tube of hair dye he kept in his backpack with another of henna.

"It's just that this shade of red looks less hateful," Zafina declared airily, by way of confession. She shrugged and met Jin's accusing eyes with a winsome smile.

XXXXXXX

Zafina's brand of humour was not the only disturbing feature. She was also inherently pessimistic, odd once Jin came to think about it, since he knew that the other girls had taken to relying on her, in addition to Julia, as a pillar of emotional support.

During their introductory computer science lecture, a technician was invited over to demonstrate to the students a sophisticated program which could build an accurate picture of what a person's face would look like in ten years' time. Jin and his friends were eager to volunteer as test subjects.

" I bet in ten years' time, you'll be looking as much of a big creep as your old man, Mish-Mash," Rang remarked snidely.

Zafina rolled her eyes. " What a complete waste of time!" she derided. " For all we know Jin could be dead in ten years' time." She haughtily marched off to the back of the class, followed by a perplexed Jin.

"It's true, you know, " she began quietly, stopping in her tracks once they were out of earshot, her back still to him. " You could be dead in ten years. We could _ all _ be dead in ten _days_."

"And that's why," he countered calmly, " astrology isn't what you'd call a _serious_ discipline. Ten years, ten days; people would rather not deal with the repercussions of knowing for certain. I know I wouldn't, and what does it matter anyway? In nine cases out of ten, you're dead before you know what's hit you."

" Astrology has nothing to do with it." The hard shell enveloping her voice had cracked and mournfulness came seeping through.

"Is that so?" He drew level with her and noticed how she was staring vacantly into space. He closed his eyes and attempted to paint an accurate mental picture of what she could be seeing, with the help of what little he had learned about her thus far.

Her family had fled their home in the Middle East….

And suddenly he could see it all unraveling before him like a film: Masses of rubble, stretches of wasteland, and countless people huddled pitifully together. Someone then suddenly turned up the volume and he could hear echoes of the wails of air raid sirens, the piercing screams, the deafening rumbles of buildings toppling down like stacks of cards.

"I think I can understand where you're coming from," Jin murmured. His eyes flew open, to her retreating figure.

She made no indication of having heard him.

"Is something wrong?" A concerned Asuka had followed him, the other girls trailing behind uncertainly.

Jin ignored her for the moment and walked over to them, until he was level with Lily. "Say, Lily, is your father still on business in the Arab Gulf, by any chance?"

In the course of their school career, Lily had overcome her initial reservations with regards to Jin. Now she harbored a deep respect for him. " Yes, zo he'll be back wizzin zis week."

Jin smiled. " Well, in that case, could you do something for me?" He leaned into her and whispered his request into her ear. Her pale eyebrows climbed higher with each word, until they almost disappeared into her hairline.

XXXXXXX

Jin sat in a shaded corner of the schoolyard, his eyes trained on to the soccer bleachers, where Zafina stood face-to-face with Rang, viciously haranguing him. The sizeable crowd that Rang had been entertaining with his endless dirty jokes and cruel imitations stood gawking, slack-jawed, at the heated exchange. Finally Rang stormed off, and Jin pretended to have his nose buried in a book as the Korean passed him. Rang seemed completely oblivious, and what he muttered darkly under his breath Jin found to be extremely shocking, even for the red-head's standards.

" Stupid… self-righteous…. tight-pussied bitch! Bet she secretly gives blowjobs to seniors…"

Jin waited for Zafina to wander up to him, her face flushed, her hands on her hips. " Rang's jokes a tad too misogynistic?" he greeted casually.

"Quite so!" she huffed. Her momentary show of weakness on the previous occasion was all but forgotten. " Why on Earth would blonde women be as stupid as he claims them to be?"

Jin wisely refrained from comment as he stared after Rang. Then all of a sudden he found her face inches from his own.

" _What did the vestal virgin say to the eunuch?_ "

"_What?_" he blinked and almost fell back in surprise.

Zafina's face had undergone a radical transformation. Her stern mouth had blossomed into lush lips that were parted in a smile, whilst her eyes had softened and lightened, to reflect the mischief sparkling within. "Well?" she pressed impatiently.

Jin quickly recovered, and after a five-second analysis of the terms "vestal virgin" and "eunuch", he produced the punch line of the joke. "_I'm willing if you're able?_"

" Correct!" she chuckled, in a tone that suggested there would be consequences if he were not. Her face suddenly regained its original countenance. " I _do _have a sense of humour, you see."

Jin rolled his eyes. "Of course you do… when the joke's on the _other_ team. I feel like such a traitor to my gender."

A look of confusion momentarily clouded her features. "My, you say the strangest things, Jin. Why do you feel that way, when your conduct and attitude set you completely apart from the rest of them? "

He looked up at her. She had said it so matter-of-factly. No implications lodged within it, amorous or otherwise. Not even a hint of admiration; merely an open acceptance.

Was that why she had seemed to slide into a more relaxed skin when around him?

Before he could mull it over in his mind, he heard her say, "Oh, yes, any idea what that red-headed monkey was muttering ? I couldn't quite catch it."

Jin carefully averted his gaze and adopted his most nonchalant tone. " Whatever it was, it certainly didn't sound like elegant poetry comparing you to a sloe-eyed gazelle running gracefully down the mountain slopes, or something." He winced as soon as these words were out of his mouth. Just _what _kind of answer was that? The kind that was laced with suggestive innuendo. The kind that could jeopardize his friendship with this tall, straight-backed, serious girl….

But Zafina gave a short laugh. "My, what's this talk of poems that compare women to gazelles? Are you actually admitting to knowing more about my culture than you're letting on?"

"Oh… Well," he smiled, relief flooding his face. " It's just that the great-grandfather for whom I was named was a great intellectual who owned one of the oldest and richest libraries in Japan. In his lifetime he managed to amass a collection of translated works from all over the East. He willed those works to my father, and so I have a good idea of what Arabic poetry's like."

Her eyes narrowed. " That's very…impressive."

Jin's level of discomfort soared to a new height, as she continued to gaze at him thoughtfully.

XXXXXXX

Jin slowly knelt down, carefully slipped off his left shoe, and gingerly examined his swollen ankle. He had twisted it the other day, while performing the sort of complicated footwork that would avail him from being turned into a two-way training dummy; in other words, he had managed to survive yet another fight where Rang and Miguel had double-teamed against him( Steve was loath to raise a fist against his beloved best friends, so he had just given Jin a meek, apologetic smile afterwards).

_Using martial arts to pursue personal vendettas should be punishable by the death penalty,_ Jin thought furiously, as he felt up his bandaged foot. Rang had wanted what he always wanted: a fight to determine who was stronger. Miguel, on the other hand, had wanted a piece of him just because he had spoken kindly to the Spaniard's younger sister, Isabella, who happened to have a crush on him. According to Miguel's ( no doubt hypocritical) logic, no-one had the right to chat up his sister, while he on the other hand could chase as many skirts as he wanted. _ When Father finds out, both of them would end up in a hole six feet deep, with their limbs tied together in a Hercules knot…_..

Speaking of the two devils, they were standing at the usual spot by the bleachers, accompanied by Steve. They were all laughing raucously as they accosted a pack of girls who just happened to walk by. One of the would-be victims was Zafina.

Jin groaned inwardly at the thought of the inevitable conflict.

"Well, well, look who's here!" Miguel was now hooting. Unlike Rang and most of the other boys in their year, he was still undaunted by Zafina's week-old rejection. "If it isn't our resident delicate, desert flower!"

Jin gave a little snort. As much as he disliked Miguel's hot-bloodedness and impulsiveness, he had never minded listening to the Spaniard's flirtations, as they always seemed to be cleverly couched in subtle language, something that had always given him an advantage over his Korean best friend's more suggestive pick-up lines in the dating department. This one he was sure Zafina could handle in her customary quiet, sultry manner.

Jin watched as Zafina rolled her eyes. " My, my," she sighed, her tone exhibiting a dramatic level of exasperation Jin was not sure she felt. " I have just been praised by King Hypocrite himself! ( "Hear, hear," Jin was thinking.) Somebody please put me out of my misery!" she finished, with an impressive theatrical gesture of supplication to boost the drama.

Jin smiled and decided to bail her out before Rang could retort, in defence of his friend, with something crude that would set her off. He replaced his shoe and limped his way over.

" What Miguel probably meant," he offered, " was _"deadly desert cobra". "_

Zafina mirrored his grin. " Yes, I thought so too," she agreed in a light, condescending tone. " Unfortunately, a man who lacks the _cojones _to take on another single-handedly is hardly expected to come out with it."

Miguel bristled indignantly, but Rang beat him to it. " And how's that any of your damn business?" he sneered. " Did Mish-Mash come crying his eyes out to you?"

Zafina raised her brows and turned to Jin. " I didn't know red-headed circus monkeys could be trained to speak like civilized humans. Did you?"

Jin sniggered and Rang rounded on him. " Fuck you, Mish-Mash!"

Jin's eyes widened with shock, then instantly hardened. " And stuff you too, _Flower Knight._" He recalled his injured ankle with a pang. "_Do'aho!"_ he spat contemptuously.

XXXXXXX

" Well, well, I seemed to have misjudged you, Jin" Zafina gave him an even look as they walked sedately to the school building. " I certainly wasn't under the impression that you were the type to curse people foully in your native tongue, even if they deserved it. That's too low a tactic for you."

Jin threw his head back and laughed. " I'm flattered you have such a high opinion of me, and I must insist that I did nothing more than call Rang a moron. You have to admit; sometimes he just acts like one. The catch here is that the latter part of the word, "_aho"_, rhymes to a certain extent with the highly favoured English curse word , " _asshole_", so our problem child will naturally assume that I'm cursing him along those terms."

"How diabolic!" she remarked. She paused and added, " That's still a low blow."

He smirked. " Are you disappointed that your first impression of me was faulty? In your defense, though, I'd like to congratulate you on actually _having _a first impression. Most people I've known for a lifetime hardly know what to make of me. You're doing pretty well for a week-old acquaintance."

As Rang's fading cries of "_Mish-Mash, you bastard!" _ reached them, Zafina said with a wry smile. " I take it "most people" does not include red-headed circus monkeys. That one seems to have his mind firmly made up about you."

He laughed appreciatively. " I'll deign to agree with you on that. And to be completely honest, I haven't fully made up my mind on you, either, which is saying something, seeing as I've been known to have acute powers of perception. I look at you, and I still see question marks, and no way to answer them without being tactless and indiscreet. I can't say it doesn't bother me sometimes."

She suddenly stopped. " Well, look at that! I manage to be a nuisance even to my good friends! O woe, Zafina! It seems you have reached new heights of evil!" she declared in a mock dramatic voice, addressing an invisible audience.

"Not quite," he grinned, then his expression became solemn. "Though I do hope you aren't keeping a Voodoo doll of Rang somewhere…"

"Now that's an idea!" She chortled.

" And about the dangling questions," he began. " It doesn't really matter. The pieces will eventually align. Until then…" he suddenly smiled. " I'm just grateful for the good company."

He parted from her at the entrance of the Physics Lab with a wave, not realizing how much of a resonant chord the sincerity of his words had struck deep within her.

XXXXXXX

Zafina had never suggested to Jin or the others that they were welcome to visit her at home during the weekend( in fact, she had hardly said two words on the subject of family life) and so Jin felt it was rather presumptuous of him to make a call at her place uninvited, but he saw no other option. He had finally acquired the means with which to unlock Zafina and her mysteries and perhaps have a few of his questions answered. He nervously fingered the small pouch hanging around his neck, as Zafina's mother told him that her daughter was not yet back from her daily dance class, but that he could wait for her in her room upstairs.

_Dance classes? _Jin thought, intrigued, as he closed Zafina's door behind him. Just how much more of her was he ignorant of?

Now that he was left to his own devices, he took to staring around the room, or _boudoir_, rather, and he was struck by thepredominance of reddish hues around him. The room was lavishly furnished with a large poster-bed( with three cushions forming arranged in a neat triangle on the coverlet), an armoire, two nightstands, a dresser , a desk and chair, and a set of shelves, all a deep, mahogany red. The floor was richly carpeted with tasteful, wine-coloured Oriental rugs that matched the drapings drawn closed over the windows. The room was also largely steeped in Zafina's culure, to the point of saturation, one could say.

Zafina had made tiny paper flags, representing each of the twenty three Arab nations, using toothpicks as flagpoles, and had artfully arranged them on the topmost shelf, with a colorful banner above that screamed, " UNITED STATES OF ARABIA!" The rest of her shelfspace was consumed by books on classical civilizations, theology and astrology. The walls were peppered with astrological charts, posters depicting the legendary creatures portrayed by ancient mythology, and masterful works of Arabic calligraphy, all carefully enclosed by gilded frames that matched the intricate patterns of gold thread on four-poster's coverlet.

Jin moved to the dresser, where he was instantly assaulted by the heady scents of bottled fragrant oils, musky lotions and Oriental perfumes he could not name. A small, ornate, jewellery box sat to one side. This item was also mahogany, but it was inlaid with gold and what appeared to be ivory. Jin sighed, restraining his curiosity with regards to its contents. He glanced back at one of the nightstands, and saw a copy of what he presumed to be the holy _Qur'an_ resting reverently on its surface. He also noticed for the first time the amber-coloured prayer beads dangling from an adjacent bedpost.

The desk held a single item of interest, amongst the colourful binders full of schoolwork. It was a large ceramic model of what looked like an old Arab city, protectively enclosed by a glass casing. Jin could tell because of the unmistakable architecture- the intricate archways that had been admired by the West for centuries. He bent down to read the golden plaque: _ Cordoba, Al Andalos, Circa 750 AD. _ From his brief foray into Arabic history, he knew that Cordoba had been named the Spanish capital when the Muslims had invaded.

As he made to get to his feet, he noticed something propped against one side of the desk. It appeared to be a charcoal painting, depicting a hooded warrior sitting astride a powerful stallion, swinging a hefty sword. Jin peered closely at what he could see of the warrior's features, then frowned. They were unmistakably a woman's. There was a caption as well as a brief history: _ Khawla, daughter of Azwar, led a, spirited charge against the marauding Roman legions, shattered their morale, and rescued her brother, Kinan, from their captivity._ Jin smiled; he understood why Zafina had deemed this Khawla worthy of her immense artistic talents.

The door suddenly banged open and Jin rose quickly, whipping around to confront the newcomer. It was Zafina. He gaped at her.

If he hadn't known that a girl of Zafina's age and physical proportions had called this room her own, he would have failed to recognize her. In just one instant, Zafina's careful, week-long build-up of her image as an austere, unpredictable young woman with a notorious holier-than-thou attitude went up in flames, to be supplanted by an image of an exotic, ethereal creature.

It was plain that Zafina had just returned from her dance lesson. Her cheeks were still flushed with exertion, and the remains of a healthy sheen of sweat could still be detected amidst the sparse quantities of gold dust she had sprinkled on beforehand. Her midnight black hair was loose, and in artful disarray, and her eyes were made more lustrous by the heavy portion of _kohl _ that elongated them. She was wearing a cream-coloured, sleeveless top, which stopped just above her navel and a medium-length wine-coloured skirt, slashed abruptly at one side to expose a great deal of leg. The skirt was sprawling with what appeared to be tiny gold coins, which jingled at the slightest movement. She had carefully fastened a golden sash around her middle, one that matched her thong sandals. To complete the picture, her bare arms were sheathed in rattling bracelets and an amethyst necklace encircled her throat.

" It looks like you've taken quite a liking to my room," she greeted. She had come bearing a silver tray leaden with figs, honeyed dates and freshly brewed aromatic Turkish coffee, which she carefully set on the desk. She straightened up, saying, " And now that you know where part of my daily extracurricular efforts go into, I'd be grateful if you'd refrain from telling anyone else. I'd hate for some people to get the idea that an interesting spectacle awaits them everyday at five."

Jin finally came out of his stupor, set his jaw and nodded. " You have some interesting things lying around."

"Quite so!" she agreed cheerfully. " I still haven't got around to making a Rang-shaped Voodoo doll, though, so sorry. And what's in that pouch around your neck? Garlic? Our problem child hasn't turned into a vampire, has he?"

He smiled and slowly removed the object in question. " Lily's father is a big-shot oil tycoon," he began conversationally. " And he goes where the business takes him. Just yesterday he'd arrived from the Arabian Gulf." He paused and looked around the room. " You miss your homeland, don't you?" he remarked with a heavy air of sadness that was emphasized by a sigh. " Hold out your hands."

She did so, hesitantly, and he pooled the contents of the pouch into her waiting palms. The dry stream of desert sand fell smoothly, forming a minuscule dune on the pedestal in which it was being held.

For a moment, all Zafina could do was gape speechlessly at the treasure trove in her hands, then she looked up at him, and her lush lips struggled to form words, which were finally uttered in a strained whisper. " Y…You didn't ask her to…"

" Just a token," he forestalled her. " To show that I understand… or at least try to."

She said nothing for a while, just brought the handful of precious sand close to her face and inhaled its familiar scent. He looked away, embarrassed at the prospect of a potential emotional breakdown. He heard Zafina pad back to her desk, a sound followed by the clink of glass a few seconds later, and he concluded that she had deposited his gift into an empty flask and put it away for safekeeping.

A rustle or two later, she was upon him. In one swift, fluid motion, she had drawn her sash, whipped it behind him, and used it to propel him closer to her. Now she was inches from his nose, her dark eyes alight with fragments of various emotions. He overcame his initial shock long enough to be able to tick those items of emotion off in his head, as one would tick off the items on a shopping list: pain, grief, gratitude, affection…

" Do you always go out of your way?" she whispered.

"D-depends…" he stammered, suddenly quite conscious of her arms snaking around his neck. " Go out of my way to do _what_?" He felt the heat rising in his face, felt his hands fluttering nervously and uselessly by his sides.

She gave him a look that suggested that he ought to be kicked in the face for failing to see the obvious. " Go out of your way to ensure that a girl who's known you for barely a week begins to harbor feelings for you. What else?" she snapped.

Jin blinked, incredulous. At the rate things were going, if he didn't gather his wits for a quick reply, he was likely to lose his ability to form coherent words for good. "Umm, not really," he quipped lamely. Then he swiftly added. " That never even crossed my mind, honest. "

She smiled. " Oh yes, I _do _ believe you, Jin." Her voice had regained its initial mellowness. " After all, I am _that _kind of woman. The kind that finds a man who shows no wanton interest in her, in a world peopled by men who are vultures, to be … alluring." Her voice had dropped into a barely audible whisper.

His brain, on the other hand, seemed to have been suspended in a state of limbo. No response was relayed to his lips, articulate or otherwise.

Her smile became wistful. " It's just my bad luck that this man's heart already lies elsewhere, isn't it?"

That cleared the haze. " What?"

" Oh, come on," she scoffed. " The artless Ms Sunshine!" Her tone suggested that she did not think much of this Ms Sunshine.

"You mean Xiao?" Jin quickly rallied, and summoned the response he automatically gave whenever someone hinted at a deeper relationship between him and the Chinese girl. " We're just friends; been friends for a long-"

Apparently, that was all the invitation she had needed.

She gracefully closed the distance between them and touched her lips to his own. The kiss was brief and tentative, but one that gave a good, solid hint of the Promised Land that lay beyond, a land populated by heady scents of smoky woods, myrrh and frankincense, a land imbued with the spellbinding timelessness of the desert….

She drew back and pinched the bridge of his nose affectionately. " Be sure to tell that insufferable friend of yours the secret to a woman's heart."

XXXXXXX

It dawned on him once he had overcome his giddiness, and was on his way home, that he still knew virtually nothing about Zafina.

Which of her loved ones she had seen fall during the war.

Why did she mistrust men the way she did.

What other unexpected activities she furtively pursued in her spare time.

Come to think of it, he was not entirely sure which region in the Middle East she had hailed from, since most of it was barren desertland, and most of it was war-torn anyway.

But the most pressing question was this: Why did she trust no-one but him to see through the carefully polished veneer of her life?( And there_ were_ some trustworthy others, like Julia and Christie.)

He sighed and shrugged. What an enigma.

_Enigma of the East…_

He pictured Zafina snarling at him for giving her such a clichéd title and allowed himself a self-depreciating smile.

He did not care how cheesy it sounded. It was, after all, aptly fitting.

XXXXXXX


End file.
